A Snape Christmas Carol
by Sirius Lover for Life
Summary: Severus Snape as Scrooge here. Haunted by three ghosts to foretell his future, he struggles amongst himself and the world...
1. Waking and Hating

The rain poured on and on outside, the water coming down in tiny droplets and sliding down the windowpane of Number One-Eighteen, Crackwallis Avenue. The lone resident of One-Eighteen sat up in bed, watching the rain stream down the glazed window, as thunder clapped loudly in the background, accompanied by ominous shrieks of thunder. At this very moment, he was torn between getting up and fixing himself a nice early breakfast of honeyed toast and tea, or flopping back down under the covers to try and get in a few more hours' rest before trudging off to work. He checked the great grandfather clock on the wall opposite him, and seeing that it read 4:43, he chose the lazy man's path and fell back into the warm, inviting comforts of his four-poster bed.

He drew the curtains around his bed shut in one swift, sweeping motion, imitating the very way he drew his cloak about him before stomping off, nose high in the air, after being offended or insulted by a student, fellow co-worker, or anyone, for that matter. Indeed, he got a good enough taste of it--- though it was a well- suited way of life for him. People hated him, he hated people. That was the way it always had been for Severus Snape, and it wasn't about to change for the world itself.

DONG. Severus awoke, eyes still closed, lying in his bed...

DONG. ... lying in his sorrow....

DONG. ....lying in his deep hatred for the world....

DONG. He opened one eye, which was surely bloodshot, like the other was also sure to be.... DONG. ....for he had hardly slept, that irritible rain had kept him up....

DONG. ... How he detested that damn rain....

**_DONG._** Upon that final toll of his clock which marked 'seven, he sat up at last, and stumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser, where he, with diffuculty, managed to wedge open a rusty drawer. _Damn_ that drawer! He shoved it open and pulled out a pair of long, black pants, then advanced to the closet to select the only other clothing garment he owned; which was a long, flowing, black cape. He slowly got dressed, hating the way he could hardly fit into his pants any longer, hating all the people who reckoned he needed to lose weight, hating the people who told him he had to lose weight, and hating all the other people who kept silent near him, yet were thinking along the same lines.... there goes pudgy Professor Snape... After managing to dress himself, with weakness spread over his body, loathing spread over his thoughts, he pulled on a pair of ratty old shoes and a black overcoat that was also too small, and deciding to dump breakfast, headed out the door.


	2. Ill Reflections

Severus walked swiftly and silently across the cobblestone street, Crackwallis Avenue. He glanced quickly up at the City Hall clock, as he rounded onto Hogsmeade Boulevard. The time was now 7:25, leaving him with only thirty-five minutes to get to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Since Apparation could not be performed on Hogwarts ground, and since Severus's belongings were void of a broomstick, and since he had no great desire for a Muggle vehicle, (or car), his only way of transportation was walking. It was Christmas Eve at last, although for all Severus cared, it shouldn't even exist... the entire town of Hogsmeade always got so wound up over these holidays!

'Look at all these crazy loons!' thought Severus with a disgusting feel in his gut. 'Gallavanting around like a herd of newly-born Sugarplum Fairies! What's the big deal about this "Christmas" anyway? Why look here, "Three Broomsticks... come in for a hot butterbeer to warm the heart and soul!"- sickening! And there, "Hogsmeade Post-send some Christmas cheer to a loved one, singing greetings now available, red and green prints half-price..." filthy! Outrageous! Unbelieva—'

But his train of criticism had run out of fuel, as he was hit in the side of the arm by a young boy with bleach-blonde hair and big, round eyes, no older than ten or eleven.

"Oh, pardon me, sir... p-p-please forgive me; I shall be more careful..." sputtered the boy, clearly phased in shock by his innocent mistake. Although for Severus Snape, being bumped into by a careless young lad was much more than and 'innocent mistake' in his mind...

"You foolish imbosil!" snorted Snape. "Have you NO common courtesy?! Why, I ought to teach you not to mess around with Severus Snape, especially when I'm running late..." he raised a bony, cruel arm high above his head...

"S-s-s-s-sir, please don't! It-it-it-'s nearly Ch-ch-Christmas!" That had done it.

"CHRISTMAS!! HOW DARE YOU USE THAT LITTLE FOLLY-WINKLE HOLIDAY OF YOURS AS AN EXCUSE TO MAKE UP FOR---"

"SIR, WHAT IN THE NAME OF BLAZES DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!", came the voice of a plump, stout man in a bowlers' hat. It was Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. He hurried over to the scene and immediately began struggling with Severus, pulling him away from the young boy.

"Mister Snape! In all my--- I just don't see how you could--- this poor boy, off to the pharmacy to get some help for his dear, sickly brother..." he began. He then turned to the boy, and stated with a nod,

"So sorry, Colin... run along now lad, and be sure you send my best to young Dennis." As Colin raced along without a backwards glance, Fudge rounded on Snape.

"Severus, you have got to start acting more respectable towards people... unless you want your name in this town to be trashed and tethered..."

"Minister, indeed you are blind to the obvious. My name already is trashed and tethered in this town! But why would I care? I don't need any of these people, and I certainly don't need you correcting me..." Severus briskly strutted forward and off along the road... until a question camet to his mind. He turned around and questioned the minister,

"What, by the way, are you doing here?"

"Well, if it was any of your concern, which by the way you made very clear to me it wasn't, you would know that dear Dennis Creevey has taken quite sick in the leg. They say..." he lowered his voice and then continued on, "they say he hasn't got much more time. The lad you just encountered, his brother, was off to get him some of his medication. Although the symptoms just get worse and worse..." his voice trailed off. "And anyway, I was here to see if I could be of any comfort to the family." Severus snorted.

"Ill?! No one these days knows the _meaning_ of ill! Why, back in my time, if you'd get a disease in the leg, it'd be clean off before you knew it, no worries. My great-uncle Arnold, bastard though he was, got it in the arms and legs, as well, and one day he..."

"Yes, well... you just try to... behave yourself in public, and I shall be going." came the Minister. Severus snorted once again, louder than before, and as he journeyed on, nearly at the school now, he cursed himself for getting into one of his old family speeches... especially about his blasted abusive uncle, whom he loathed... the only happy memory he had of this man, who was also his only living family member which he knew at the time, was the day he died. The lady at the orphanage he was made to go to after that day was strict, but not in the nearest as bad as old Uncle Arnold. The lady would ask him where he had gotten the scars from, all the burn marks and bruises, and after years of lying to everyone about the truth, he finally told her. Sharing, he found immediately after, was in fact a mistake. From that time forward, he had drawn away, deep hate welling in his heart, detesting them for knowing secrets he would rather have repressed. Transforming into that bitter son-of-a-bitch he had ultimately become, he lived out his days in that Muggle orphanage; until the day his letter arrived...announcing his acceptance into Hogwarts. He had thought then, if even for a short time, that his life would take a turn for the better, though a constant stream of attitude and character met the same response there, if not far worse…

…he shook off these memories as he swung open the large stone door to Hogwarts.


	3. Blowing out the Candles

(Hours later; near the end of the school day)

* * *

"Uncle?" came a young man's voice. "Uncle, may I come in?..." not waiting for a reply, the man entered Severus's office, with an uncertain smile on his face.

"Gilderoy, what is it now?"

"Uncle Sev---"

"Do not call me that, boy!"

"S-sorry... Professor... well, I was just wondering, since it is the Eve of Chri--"

"ARRRRRGHHH!"

"... well, tomorrow is a certain winter holiday , and frankly sir, I was---well we were hoping, that you could come for Chr--- for... er... dinner on the twenty-fifth. It would mean so much to Carrie and me..."

"You want me to dine with you and that foolhardy wife of yours? Gilderoy, you have got to be kidding me."

"No, sir! And, if it pleases you, I would like you to see my newest award... a pure bronze statue of myself--- right in the front yard! Town hero, that would be me... and do you know what I did to get this award of highest honour? Well..." Severus set down his stack of Potions' papers on his desk with a thump, and stared down at his nephew with the look of a starving dog glaring down a piece of meat.

"Now look here, nephew... just because you are my only living blood relative, does not mean that we are to socialize ,as old friends would do over tea!"

"Oh, but certainly, no one can resist smiling during the holidays, and surely the holidays wouldn't be complete without seeing..." he flashed his string of pearly-whites... "this smiling face!"

"Actually, my boy," began Severus slowly, a false smile pasted on his face, "you were right! I would miss you way too much..." he got up, slapped an arm around his nephews' shoulder, leading him across the room, "And Christmas (he shuddered as he said the word) is a time for families. You can count on me being there!"

"Oh, uncle! Really? You mean it!?" With his false smile still in tact, Severus shoved him out the door.

"No!"

And with that, he slammed it shut, returned to his wooden desk, gathered up his papers, decided to grade them at home, strode over to the area where two single candles lit the room and gave it minor warmth, blew them out effortlessly, and congratulating himself on his personal victory over his now-sure-to-be-devastated-nephew, glided out of the office and shut the door, turning the lock and bound back home.


	4. Winding Brass Superstitions

Getting home by walking through the town of Hogsmeade at the close of the evening, especially on Christmas Eve, was no laughing matter for Severus. Folks were still out, milling about in their jolly fashion. It was extremely difficult for him to make it home without being jumped on by a horde of happy-go-lucky charity collectors, or without being stalked by a mob of caroling fiends.

"But please, sir won't you be kind enough to donate any small amount to St. Mungo's Fund for Inj---"

"Not a Sickle!" snarled Severus, growing agitated. Picking up an airy sense of nobility, he importantly pressed on, quite aware of the teenage carollers following him, singing some kind of tortorous song... a song about peace, love, happiness, joy, and hope--- hmmm! There was no such thing as peace, love, happiness, joy, OR hope, thought Severus. He droned them out by humming his own desultory tune in his head.

"Hmmmmmmmm..."

"Siiiiiiiilent niiiiiiiiiight, hooooooly niiiiiiiiight..."

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." his song was growing louder, with every higher note of theirs...

"All is caaaaaaaaaalm, all is briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight..."

"HMMMMMMMMMMMMMM..." soon the disconnected tune was wailing from his mouth... louder and louder...

"Round yon viiiiiiirgin, mother and chiiiiiiiiiiiiiild..."

"HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!..." ... now screaming... people all around him turned to stare...

"Hooooooooly infaaaaaaaaaaant... so teeeeeeeender and miiiiiiild..."

"STOP IT! STOP WITH THE SINGING ALREADY!" he shouted as he twisted around in the manner of a madman to face the quartet of children. He was clearly enraged, and his anger was portrayed in his pale, twisted face. The village all around him fell silent at his outburst; all heads turned towards him. Admist their harsh whispers and vengeful stares, Severus managed to get to One-Eighteen Crackwallis without further assault. Home at last! Well... if you could call this home, (which he hardly could, for although its cold stone walls held him away from the rest of the world, he never had truly made himself at home anywhere he'd been, let alone here.)

He let out a deep sigh before fumbling with the key and lock. That was strange- for as he slid the rusty brass key into the lock then turned it, he noticed something- or at least he thought he did. Could he have REALLY seen it? No. There couldn't have been...at last, he managed to open the door. He hung his cloak up on the hanger near the door, then couldn't help questioning himself as he undressed and climbed into bed: had he actually seen what he thought? For if he was to make a guess, one wild crazy guess, he would say that for just one brief moment, his door knocker, normally the shape of a winding brass snake, had taken the form of the face of his former schoolmate - Sirius Black!


	5. Redemption, Sweet Redemption

Still he lay awake, in the night, trying to get his head cleared. After all, it was not HIS fault Sirius had died... not one single bit. That Lestrange woman had been the one-the cousin of her target-unfortunate nonetheless, but Severus's intentions during that time had been nothing but with good heart-

'Good heart, eh, Sevvie?' asked a voice in his head. 'But wait... I thought you _had_ no heart. Could there be a change of conscience for the infamous Professor Snape?'

'You could have saved him, you know...' came another voice from the inside. 'It was _you _and you alone whom Potter and all his allies' fate depended on... all you had to do was tutor him once a week, and you couldn't even do _that_... you really _are_ a worthless pile of sludge...'

"No..." groaned Severus. "Please, not now... let me sleep... for once..." In his true mind, the one voice, the voice that really mattered- had always told him he was indeed a heartless soul who cared for no one but himself, and barely for himself at that. And that one true voice was the deciding factor... he had never, before tonight, given so much as a thought to whether or not he was truly capable of having a soft side. So why, why had tonight brought these questions to mind for the first time?

In the outside world, snow softly drifted downwards from the heavenly skies, slowly knitting itself a blanket of soft white just on the other side of Severus's door. But all that could be heard around Number Eighteen were the prolonged, clamorous snores emerging from his room. Eventually, he fell silent and into a deep sleep...

He was dreaming, dreaming of failing each and every last Potions student; and as he watched them fall to the floor with depression at this news, he began laughing hysterically...

"Laugh if you will, Snapey, but now is your time..." came a ghastly voice all of a sudden. Floating around the realms of nowhere, this voice continued... "Come, Severus... come..." This time it was a new voice, soft yet harsh, and as it surrounded him, the urgency in it could be heard and felt. "Come..."

"Stuff it," muttered Severus, into the air of the real world.

"Come..."

"No more arguing... go away... go away..."

"Now is your time..."

"WILL YOU GET THE BLOODY HELL AWAY??!!!" at last, Severus had fully awoken. But was he fully awake?

"Considering what you're about to see tonight, mate, I would choose a better phrase."

Now he _knew_ he was still sleeping...and having a nightmare! He quickly wiped a greasy hand over his eyes and began rubbing them vigorously. He blinked once. Twice. Three times now. And that was it. For now he could clearly see, standing at his bedside, none other than the torment of his long-troubled conscience-

"S-s-s--_SIRIUS_?!"

The man nodded solemnly, his figure pale and dreary. Smooth black hair fell over his deep blue still-sparkling eyes, giving semi-life to his nonexistent form.

"Is th-th-there a r-re-rea-reason you're here?" came Snape in a trembling voice.

"Severus, will you quit studdering long enough to use your head? You think I'd choose to come and visit you, just to drop in for some whiskey and gin? No. Obviously there's a reason I'm here, chap, and that reason would be – redemption."

"Aha! So the Devil himself spat you back out of Hell, thinking you could be redeemed? See, Sirius, no one, not a single soul, wants your company..."

"Severus, this may not have been made clear enough to you, but as a general rule of thumb when dealing with the paranormal, _don't _agitate your betters. Damn…you're the one alive and kicking, and I'm still the one who's got it!" At that he chuckled, before continuing. "And anyway, your attacks are again fruitless; as this is a mission for _your _redemption; not mine. Nasty boy, you always were, Sev...and for some reason, _I_ was chosen to help you see the thing they call 'the light'. Speak now or forever hold your peace…"


	6. At the Sign of the Shooting Star

Not waiting for a reply, Black strode briskly over to the icy window, tore open the shutters, and stared into the night. The snow was still coming down like rockets, and not long after, a chilly wind chimed in, sending various snowflakes ascatter in the moonlight, and illuminating the smooth, pale apparition of a face staring back at the scene.

Like a beacon among the sailships, a single twinkling star, oddly larger and brighter than the rest that night, suddenly blinked itself repeatedly, followed almost immediately afterward by a shooting star crossing its path. As if that were a signal of comprehension, Sirius whirred around and spoke directly to Severus.

"Come on. We've delayed too long already... here... hold on to this...." at that, he fumbled around the room, apparently looking for some sort of object- he finally pulled a long, crooked cane out of a bin in the corner of the dark room. Observing it further, he grinned mischeviously.

"Eh, there Snivellus... see you've gotten a bit ahead of your years, have you now? Hobbling around town with this now, are you?-well," he chuckled softly, "no matter. We've got to get going now, you know... so here, grab on to the end of this...and we can _leave_..." and with that, he held out the cane to the other man.

Severus remained still in bed, frozen by an unknown force. He stared at the ghastly form of his old schoolmate as if he had just suggested they go streaking through the heart of London at midday in the barren cold of December.

"What in the... now, you've been known to do the unpredictable in your 'glory days', Black, but this... WHY? Why the ruddy hell would you come back to **haunt** me? I don't need redemption! That's a thing for morons and bloody imbisols! And what exactly do you mean by taking- _this_..." he reached out to yank the cane out of Black's hands, but!- his touch upon the cane immediately sent an unearthly force into motion... for before he had a chance to blink, he was soaring through a blur of misty clouds, gaining speed with every breath he didn't have a chance to take.


	7. The Party of the Forgotten

Zipping... Soaring...Gliding...and now floating. They were decreasing in speed as they descended from the sky, slowly, ever so slowly. As they softly touched down on solid ground, Severus quickly withdrew his hands from the cane as if it was a burning hot piece of coal. He stared at his ghostly guide in growing hatred.

'He's kidnapped me!' Thought Severus. 'Probably came back just to try and finish what he started twenty years ago... he wants me dead! That's what he meant by 'redemption'... he's got to carry out my murder... no Ickle-Jamesey to save either of us now...' yet he was abruptly knocked back into thinking along the lines of sanity when Sirius gave him a rude jab in the back with the walking stick.

"Ouch---Sirius, what in the blazes-"

"...Aww, sorry there, had to make sure you were awake..."

"Need I ask why, Sirius? I daresay you do not realize that I am onto you?... You've come back to kill me... OWWW! NOW WHAT WAS IT FOR THAT TIME?"

"That one was for making sure you're still alive," Sirius retorted sarcastically, then turned toward an obvious distraction-an elegant homestead with many bright glowing lights in the windows-but Severus was so wrapped up in his insane theories that he saw nothing but 'that foul, nasty, freeloading traitor' in front of him... It took yet another prod from the cane to get his attention once again.

"THAT'S IT, BLACK!" roared Snape, now losing control of his temper, once again. "IF YOU PLAN ON TORTURE METHODS INVOLVING THE CANE AND MY NOW-DEFORMED BACK, YOU HAD BETTER-" But Sirius never found out what he had 'better do'. Because at that moment, Severus caught his first sight of the mansion-and his attention immediately was thrust full-throttle towards it. He drew closer to it, stepping in a light and almost graceful way, very much unlike his usual approach. For something deep back in his memory file drew him towards this house-and then he came close to it, and remembered.

"Lucius..." came Severus. "This was Lucius's house..." Way back when Severus had attended Hogwarts as a student, he had been looked down on, pitied, and even feared by others due to the abuse he had taken in the past, and the attitude he had taken in the present... but Lucius Malfoy was his only true friend; the only one who ever gave a damn what happened to him. They had grown to be inseperable over the years; they were soon known as the Slytherin equivelants to Prongs and Padfoot, as far as their terms of brotherhood went, although quite unlike the Marauders, Snape and Malfoy were seen as freaks, scoundrels, slimeballs, and got to be a quite unpopular duo, especially due to all the rows they lost with the Marauders, all the times they were outwitted then laughed at... Severus tried in a hurry to forget those times... all that mattered was that Lucius had been there.

"But you weren't always there for Lucius, now were you?" With a start, Severus turned around and stared.

"Are you sticking up for him? He assisted in your death, and you still-"

"I'm very well aware of what he's done, thanks," said Sirius, voice threateningly rising. "The point is, well... take a look for yourself." He gestured with his hand toward the large bay window and moved aside. Severus took a tentative step toward it, but drew back. Sirius let out one of his usual barklike laughs.

"There's nothing to worry about, they can't see us..." Still not so sure what exactly was going on, Severus at last stood before the window and took a good look inside, and gasped at the sight. There were people inside, dozens of people, and they were all dancing elegantly across the floor, looking like they were having the time of their lives. Bright waxy candles of every shape, size, and color imaginable were placed all around the room, lighting up the lovely silver curtains that sparkled continuosly. There were long wooden tables at each end of the room, sporting sparkling champaigne and fancy appetizers. Numerous house-elfs scuttled madly about, trying to serve as many guests as possible while trying to look professional at the same time. Folks were all wearing fine fifteenth-century clothing, from lacy elegant gowns to tuxedos made of fine silk. This all just added to Severus's disgust.

'How could they be having such-fun?' he thought. He was utterly revolted. And still, he didn't know where the hell he was-he knew it was his old friend's house, yes, but during what time? Was it possible they were somehow in a Pensieve of some sort? He re-focused his attention on the party that was taking place. It was obviously a rich affair... but he couldn't recognize anyone he knew. Just as he was thinking this, the party inside fell silent; everyone turned to the stairway. He could hear violins softly playing a gentle tune as two people, a man and a woman, appeared at the head of the stairs, locked arms, and gracefully glided downstairs together, moving as one. Once they reached the landing, the people on the dance floor quickly exited; these two people obviously were of great importance. As soon as the pair made it to the floor, they set off like a top, twirling around and around in perfect uniform motion. Not only were they excellent dancers, but they were one of those rare couples who looked like they were truly in love, and it could be seen in their young and joyful faces. Suddenly, Sirius spoke.

"Pity I wasn't invited, eh Severus? Look at how funny life can be-you get to be the star of the show for about half an hour here, but then one tiny mistake, and you become a miserable old clod for the rest of your life, with everything you once had, lost. See?"

Severus apparantly did NOT see, and frankly had no idea what this man was talking about. In fact, all he wanted to do now, more than anything, was to go home, crawl into bed, fall fast asleep, and forget about this torturous nightmare he was living. The very last thing he wanted to do was to stand here and play guessing games with the ghost of an ex-murder convict, so he did not even question the other man. Though he didn't need to-for as the young couple in the house glided closer to the window, the man in the pair's face became visible--and Severus stared in shock and sudden remembrance. For he had been that man.


	8. Beggars and Fiends

Speechless for moments, Severus looked on through the window. At final glance, he noted the smile on his once radiant face, and with that turned his back to the past. A faint gleam of pity scanned itself across Black's face, but that moment too came to pass, and once again he tapped his companion with the cane, but this time on the shoulder and without malice.

"Happiness, Severus. _Love_. Remember..." This was barely whispered before the two were soaring through the dark, angry sky as the long, endless night wore on.

----

Silence was awkwardly noticeable between the two men as they touched upon earth, landing softly atop a rotting spot among patches of tangled, unkempt weeds in what appeared to be a neglected, lonely garden. Severus, quite regularly a speaker of a word harsh and plenty, was for once in his life, at a complete loss for words. Urging him along with an impatient point at his arm and harsh glare, Sirius led the forlorn man along the remainder of the scratchy dirt path up to what appeared to be a large- and empty- house.

"So, Severus. It seems as though we've come to the end of our journey. I leave you here- just know that this may be the end for me as of now, but for you, a point of turning..." with a final shove of the cane, he pushed his companion along, who, upon tripping over yet another tangle of weeds, fell over the stone windowpane of the seemingly abandoned mansion. Cutting his lip, he moved his hand to his mouth as the sharp sting shot through his veins, but found no blood.

Quivering, he turned to the spot where Black had stood, but a sly and sudden whisper in his ear turned him 'round to find the man standing at his side.

"Haven't you heard that you no harm can come to you in a dream?"

"This isn't a dream..it's an illusion", said Severus simplistically.

"Did I say it wasn't? For in dreams you can feel but not hurt; in an illusion you can hurt _and_ feel. Take a look in the window, if you can _stand_ to, that is. I said it before and I'll say it again, _Severus, _I can't stay here forever. If only..." he sighed a long, lonely, exasperated breath of longing..."if only I could. But, alas! See for yourself...what you could not see before." He took a step back, and with a bit of a wink, said,

"Make certain, by the way, you are awake around two... I shouldn't think she'd fancy waking you up herself. Neither would you, for that matter."

All in a speedy, mystic blur, Black had gone, and Severus had hit his head for a second time on the pane. Teeth gritted, he took a look through them. All at once, his grip on the sill loosened, but he remained, as he had at the last house, steady at the spot.

Inside, he saw himself yet again, but this man was quite different than the last he had seen. Lost in a dismal moment, he watched himself turn away a poor, cold beggar as he grovelled before him for a bit of a meal. Pressing his ear to the glass, he began to hear the cruel words that he had been shouting at the vagabond-

"Tsss! _Christmas! _Don't dare give me that petty excuse for your low-life manner of snivelling around! - FILTH! Get up off your knees. In fact, take one step further and get off my property. I mean it- I can have the sheriff here in less than a minute!" He kicked the fearful man as he struggled to his feet. As he made for the door, Severus, standing outside, was aware he too would be outside- with him- in a moment.

Compelled with pity for the old beggar, Severus approached the man, now teary-eyed, and tried to reason with him as he and the other tried to gain some compusture.

"Ermm...that seemed a bit..._cold_, I suppose", he started, almost apologetically, but as the other man continued on his way, not even looking back, Severus was almost sure he hadn't been seen nor heard. He couldn't be heard in a dream- or an illusion.

But he had been heard the first time.

Leagues above the snow-filled sky, a single satisfied blue-eyed soul cracked a half-smile as he looked down upon the scene before him. A large but generous hand on the shoulder, a gruffled "Not yet.." was emitted from another as he readied his next savior to descend from the heavens in a clasp of fresh thunder.


	9. Blowing of the Winds of Change

How he got home, Severus just couldn't say. But what an awful nightmare- imagine an old schoolmate risen from the dead to pull you back to the past! He yanked his quilt over his head and shut his eyes tight.

DONG. DONG. Two short, simple tolls of the bells that sounded a lifetime. Cold air seeped into the cracks of the room, from the windows, floorboards, ceiling, and all around the old house, creating a forceful wind which blew aside the bedsheets for a second time.

Rather than haunting, tormenting calls, giggles filled his head as his eyes were forced open. Before him was a girl, laughing, smirking, as girls do- but she was different; pale, translucent, and forlorn as his past visitor had appeared. But so young...

"Picture a _professor_ wearing a nightdress", she snickered. "Ah, if only I were alive...what a laugh I could have...oh, a _real _laugh..." she sniffed and latched onto his arm with a shaky but certain grip.

Severus widened his eyes, his paranoia and fear being self-diluted in attempt to keep his sanity- some of it, at least. He'd simply deny this was happening! With a nervous chuckle, he said to the spirit-

"So, where are we riding off to _this_ time,_ dear_?"

In an instant, Myrtle was right at his face.

"You _won't_ call me that. You WON'T!" she sobbed, flying straight out the window, dragging behind her a dazed and reluctant man.


	10. Miracles and Prayers

This journey gave Severus some more time to think to himself. Airborne, dar above the trees and rooftops, he reached out to remember the night he had turned away that pleading poor man... and realised that the one instance he had returned to this night had not been the only one. Was this _shame _he was trying to force from his mind? What, then, was the point of showing him Lucius's party?

'I had friends!' thought he, trying to come to terms with that nagging inner voice. ' I obviously wasn't _that_ ill-off..."

'Yes, you _had_ them' it said to him. 'Once upon a _good, honest, non-greedstricken _lifetime,' he pushed this too from his mind, only it took a tad more effort than the other times.

"Oh Snape? We've arrived," said Myrtle in her little voice, tinged with mockery but tears. They landed on the snow, upon the lawn of another richly-laid home. It hardly looked familiar, though...

"Hmmm? You don't recognize it, do you?" she asked. "This will be your _nephew's _house. Of course, you wouldn't know, never having been there yourself...and look!, here's the statue Mr. Lockhart was _so _proud of, the one he wanted you to see." She turned and flew to the window as Severus stared at the statue. There was the figure of his very own blood relative, standing proud and tall upon a base which splurted words honoring him of bravery and good deeds. Severus stamped and stated,

"Hmmm! Good deeds_ indeed_!" Myrtle beckoned him to the window and said,

"Something you never accomplished..."

The rising mental voice began to say 'never say never', but instead Severus grumbled...

"Please, little girl, I'm tired of gazing through these _windows..._ go back to playing dolly and kindly leave me be."

A blow to the head struck Severus with such wonder at the strength of such a young girl- spirit or not. Instead of snapping back, he started,

"Why..." she turned his head to the window. Inside he saw a light on, a gas lamp... ("spoiled rotten, little overpaid bastard").

"You just may feel differently at the next stop", Myrtle said. He ignored her jeer and instead fixed his gaze upon the elegant oak table and many chairs. Upon the table were glasses of buttered rum, hard cider, and champagne. The festivity was evident throughout what he could see of the dining room, with the wreaths and boughs speckled with red berries hanging over the doorways and upon the walls. Of the many chairs at the table, only two were occupied.

His nephew sat at one, his wife opposite him. They each lifted a glass, Gilderoy pausing to propose-

"A toast, to my dear uncle. May the holiday spirit somehow find him...please..." his proposal turned into a bit of a prayer - "cheers." His wife reluctantly sipped the drink. Fingering her glass, she wondered aloud,

"Why _do _we bother, Gilderoy? Each year, the same old wasted concerns. Roy dear, the man is a _humbug,_ plain and simple. He_ never changes_. Men like him_ don'_t. We can't expect more than a 'take your Christmas and leave me be', I'm afraid." She whipered, "Roy...you_ know _this." Her husband sighed and explained,

"Yes, yes, I was just hoping...for..."

"A Christmas _miracle_?" she taunted. Gilderoy, however, knew that would truly be the only way his uncle would even consider greeting them with a "Merry Christmas."


	11. Tarnished Bricks

_Disowning _me, is exactly what he's doing," said Severus to the ghost.

"Really? I may just be a _child, Professor, _but I must say it looked to me like they weren't giving up on you. Not just yet. But what time have we to sit here and talk rubbish? Let us be on, one last house is all I ask of you."

Severus by now was very accustomed to riding the wind with a ghostly mentor. By the time they reached the next house, then, he was feeling somewhat comfortable in this- dream or ullusion, whatever it may be- nothing, he told himself, could surprise him.

"Hurry, girly, so I may keep the rest of the night as my own." She slyly replied,

"You can't have everything...the night is in no one's possession."

"You know, for once in my life, I'll say I may have prefered Sirius giving me this tour. Hurry, now!"

"Hurry yourself- the window's right there."

By now, the over-confident man was used to looking in windows. "Quite routine," he chuckled to himself. He stood to gaze in this one and, as he did, he noticed for the first time teh shabbiness of this house- a great deal smaller than the other, by comparison.

Wry attitude, expectant of anything, guided weary eyes to the inside of the cottage. His vows not to be surprised or moved at any sight were shattered as he saw Mr. Creevy being reassured by Minister Fudge- why was _he_ here? Creevy's wife and children sat on the dirty floor. From outside, it looked as though the little boy and girl were comforting their crying mother- it was not just his sight, this was real! Colin slowly got up from the floor- and went to a rocking chair in the corner of the tiny room. For the first time, Severus took notice of the boy sitting in it- it was little Dennis Creevy! He looked sickly and fragile indeed, as Severus recalled, he had been told by Colin of his condition. And, oh! How he had dismissed him! Severus reddened in shame. He turned to the spirit.

"But, he'll be alright, of course?" Something of a smile- twisted as it was, spread over Myrtle's face as she carelessly replied, "Nuh-uh. Fudge _told _you, he was on the brink of death...your memory isn't all too keen, is it now?"

Severus could do nothing more than stare at the girl, in her apathy, so _unfeeling _towards the boy- so tiny, so vulnerable.

"How can you SAY that?!" he demanded, forming something of an outrage. She just shrugged, stirring yet again his other voice- 'how can YOU say that?' it asked of him. '_Certainly, _he's just another brick in the wall to you?'

"No...he...he's...he'll _die!_" Severus cried, holding his head as if trying to calm it and all its voices.

"Yes, how _about _that? I remember when _I _died..."

"Not...another...word", he told the spirit through clenched teeth. "I'm so sick...and tired...just take..me home." No sooner said he the words than he found himself lying upon his throne of teathered feathers and tarnished thoughts.


	12. Jagged Changes

"It's over...aahh, I am through with it all." he tossed and turned for no more than a minute before he lay fast asleep.

And no sooner had he fallen asleep did darkness seep into his restless head. Cold, freezing, hungry, _starving, _Severus started, opened his eyes, and looked about him in a frenzy. Such fright entered him as never it had before as a dark, still, and silent shadow emerged behind his bedcurtains. Only on the other side- only an illusion- _unreal- _this whole night- 'just let it go', hissed that besieging voice of reason. As a child who finds himself trapped in a nightmare, held captive by illusional creatures of peril does, Severus shut tight his eyes and laid his head firmly down upon his pillow. Immediately, it fell through, down, below his bed, below his floor, below any depth known to common man. His body followed after, and the falling became endless.

"A dream can't hurt you...you can neither feel nor hurt...but in an illusion, you can hurt...You can _feel_..." Black's words jumped at him as he searched for comfort, for his own personal salvation.

He was thrust to the ground with a stinging pain erupting from all parts of his meager and weakening body.

'You can hurt...you can feel what it is you believe you can.' And what he felt now was something cold, dark, and impossibly slaughtered with unforgiveness rapidly approaching him- as he looked up, his fears checked in with reality as the cruelest-looking dementor he could ever envision floated above him in a fearless stone-like descent. In quick and utter panic, he began trying to call up a happy memory- and now, in morbid peril, his looming fate drawing ever nearer, he realised that there _were _none. They had all been destroyed by his own greed- dementors suck away happiness- yet he could feel nothing being drawn away.

"How could this _be_?" he questioned in a cracking voice. Trembling, he looked up at the creature and said,

"Take me if you must, but nothing more can be withdrawn. I regret to say you are wasting your time on an empty soul who has nothing to offer. I'm _sorry_." He choked in a raspy whisper.

It was coming, not heeding his plea, drawing close now, closer to his face. Finding there was nothing more he could do, Severus laid down and closed his eyes.

Coldness, jagged, icy hate, was being drawn from him, the pain was piercing his flesh and soul. All at once, scenes flashed before him, of things past, present, and still yet to come. He saw Narcissa, his love, crying out in anger at his greed; there was the humble beggar, freeezing in the cold; Dennis Creevy, being lowered into the ground before weeping mourners, there were his parents...his empty chair; there was Gilderoy and Carrie, his only family, eating a dismal dinner alone, without him; there was _his_ empty chair. There was _his empty grave. _And there it was.

And here _he_ was. He gasped for air and found it, _wonderful, _still there, still willing to accept him; the lost child who flees from home in misjudgement, then returns to family who is so overthrown with gladness that they forget their past anger.

And now gladness was truly what he had.


	13. And So We End It, And So We Begin

DONG. Lying there in bed. DONG. Safe at last. DONG. Resting on his throne of repaired hopes. DONG. Repair. It was being made. DONG. He would make it _last._ DONG. To show everyone. DONG. To show _himself._

Seven o' clock, Christmas morning. _Christmas._ Severus said it to wimself without that defiant inner voice interrupting. At last. For once and all, it had been silenced.

_Silence- _something he could not keep! He leaped out of bed and failed to take notice of any aches or pains caused by this sudden motion. Bounding down the stairs in anticipation, he grabbed his cloak and found it fit him _grandly. _Like a _king. _Like the king who found a revelation not to be in vain.

Scrambling out the door and on to the front step, Snape spotted a young lad on a bicycle, who sped up as he passed Severus's house. Severus called to the boy,

"You there! Stop, boy!" The boy's eyes widened as he made to speed off, but Snape was beside him, a hand placed on his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded of the quivering lad.

The boy replied fearfully, "To buy Ma and Pa their Christmas chicken." A sudden smile of sincerity spread across Snape's face as he told him,

"Well then. Fine boy you are, take this, buy your chicken, the plumpest, **finest **one! Then run home with your folks and enjoy their company." With that, he placed in the boy's hand several Knuts, more than enough to buy a fabulous Christmas bird. With a stunned, "thank you", the boy was off, and so was Severus.

With naught on but a cloak, nightdress, and grin, Severus strided down the street, not arrogant as in his previous manner, but in one that was almost jubilant. He knew where it was he had to go- as he was on his way, he passed a trio of carollers, who scowled as he came up to them.

"Surely you haven't given up on me _that _easily?" he asked as he laid an arm around the shoulder of one of the nearly-petrified looking young ladies.

"Come now", he sang, " 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas'...around the octave of E." he lead the surprised songsters along in a chorus of 'Merry Christmas'es, singing 'til they could sing no more. Snape bid a final one as he farewelled his new friends and continued down the street.

At last he came upon the home he had the night before. Peering in the window, he was a bit put-out to see the same scene in his nephew's house he had seen previously. He knocked on the door.

Gilderoy opened the door, and his jaw simply dropped as he saw his uncle standing at his doorstep with a broad smile on his face.

"Uncle...this won't be another one of your tricks, will it?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, no, dear boy," Severus laughed it off. "May I come in? And a Merry Christmas to you," he said to Gilderoy's wife.

"Same to you..." she mumbled in shock, then, more openly, "Mr. Snape?! Well, come on in! Stay for breakfast, won't you?" He replied,

"I shan't be able to, I'm afraid; you see, I have another stop to make this fine Christmas morning.

"Well then, how about later tonight for dinner?" his nephew asked. A pause, then,

"Of course. I'd love to. Have a merry, _Merry_ Christmas." he smiled as he turned to the door. Then, turning back, he winked, "love the statue, by the way."

Continuing still on his way, he at last reached his final destination of the morning. Knocking on the Creevy's door, he hardly hesitated as Mr. Creevy answered the door and invited him in. His wife rushed over to greet him with a certain smile.

"Hello, Mister Snape...we haven't much to offer, but won't you have a glass of Christmas cider?" He took the cup and drank from it, plucking the hairs of his face as he lost himself deep in thought. After awhile he said,

"Thank you. And thank you for not giving up on me. You haven't given up on the boy either, surely?" The Creevys glanced at each other. Just as they did, Colin, and his sister came bounding down the stairs, Dennis sitting upon the shoulders of his brother.

"Children," said Mr. Creevy, "Look who has come to say hello this Christmas." Colin froze for a moment at the bottom of the stairwell, looking at Snape and remembering their first, dismissive, meeting.

"Well now, don't be shy, say hello!" Mrs. Creevy beckoned to her children.

Severus began to shake as he took little Dennis on his lap. Stroking his hair and holding back tears, He looked up at the Creevys.

"I...I want you to take this..._all_ of it..._heal_ him." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a sack of Galleons and handed it to a Mr. Creevy, who by now was trembling as well.

"We...we can't...no sir, there's no way..." he gulped, but Severus handed Dennis to his brother, and as he stood, clasped close Mr. Creevy's hold on the bag.

"This is my Christmas gift to you...to him...to your family." he said this as he headed for the door. Mr. and Mrs. Creevy were still and silent. As his hand was on the knob, Mrs. Creevy put her arm around his shoulder.

"Please...stay for Christmas a Christmas meal, won't you, Severus?" Looking into her eyes, looking into _all_ their eyes, knowing Dennis soon would be healed, he smiled, a pure, simple smile, and said,

"Of course. After all, what is Christmas if not a time to spend with special people?" Sparkling eyes around the room, Dennis's brightest of all, nodded in agreement, and as Dennis stood for once on his own, he looked at Severus and his family around the room and smiled,

"God Bless us. _Every one_." And not a spirit or humbug around could at this moment disagree.


End file.
